


Repairs and Restoration

by MechBull



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-12 05:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7087165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma is <i>intrigued</i> by the maintenance man at her new place. Thankfully, things keep breaking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notapepper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notapepper/gifts).



“Excuse me, Agent May?”

May looked up, stony-faced, at the intrusion, never once stopping the movement of her hands as she sorted the forms in front of her. It wasn’t that she was unhappy to see Maria. It was that she knew Maria never said excuse me or called her agent unless she wanted something. May narrowed her eyes.

Maria half-smiled and tilted her head. They were both highly trained spies after all.

“Are you using your spare room for anything right now?”

May’s eyes narrowed further. “How did you know I have a spare room?”

No one had ever been to her apartment, and she liked it that way. 

“You mentioned it at last year’s New Year’s party.”

A moment of indiscretion like that seemed highly unlikely, and May wasn’t convinced she was telling the truth. But it wasn’t really the pressing question anyway. “Why do you ask?”

Maria shifted her weight, clearly preparing to launch into a sales pitch of some kind. May felt her senses go on high alert, as if a danger was approaching. 

“There’s a new scientist transferring here, supposed to arrive this afternoon. Only she just called from the road – her would-be landlord had bad news. The last tenant had been kicked out for, uh, doing some science experiments of his own with narcotics, if you follow me, and in retaliation or to get rid of the evidence or something, he…burned down the house last night.”

May had to confess she wasn’t expecting that one. It even prompted a slight eyebrow raise. 

“That’s unfortunate,” she replied. “But I don’t see what it has to do with my spare room.”

“Oh come on, May,” Maria said, somewhat huffily. “She needs somewhere to stay. It’ll only be until she finds a new place.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. could put her up in a safe house. Or a hotel. Or any one of the thousands of other agents – ”

“Victoria Hand and Anne Weaver both personally recommended her for this position. Do _you_ want to tell either of them that we aren’t being as welcoming as possible? Also, the only other person I know of with space is Sitwell.”

May came close to making a face of disgust. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“You work so much, you’ll probably never see her,” Maria reminded her. “And she’s British and polite, so you’ll probably never even need to talk to her.” 

“ _Only_ until she finds her own place. And if I’m ever forced to ‘bond’ with her…”

“You can hold me personally responsible,” Maria agreed, already walking away. “Thanks, May.”

“What’s her name?”

“Simmons,” Maria called back. “Jemma Simmons.”

**

Fitz prided himself on not being too thrown by anything the tenants needed. Generally, it was a pretty easy gig. Most of them were field agents and minded their own business even when they were in town. Probably the strangest thing he’d ever had to deal with was working his way through 4D’s red-string obstacle course between the front door and the malfunctioning refrigerator. Apparently she really wanted to be prepared for any security systems with laser grids.

But the request he was currently filling blew them all out of the water. Melinda May in 2A had rung to ask him to make a copy of her key.

For her new roommate.

Melinda May. 

A roommate.

Fitz shook his head, then pulled the key from the cutter. He leaned forward to blow the metal shavings off it, and rubbed his thumb over the jagged edge. He hung the original back on its hook, closed the case and locked it. Then he walked over to his desk, throwing the new copy on it and sliding a scrap piece of paper closer to check what was next on his list. He used to be better at things like this, could keep four or five processes operating in his mind simultaneously without even trying. Now he had to carry around notebooks of to-do lists and phone numbers and – Fitz sighed. No use in complaining about it; it is what it is. At least he had ended up with a pretty flexible job that let him still play around with tools and machines sometimes. He almost had managed to convince himself that he got it on his own merit and not because S.H.I.E.L.D. still felt guilty. 

Fitz wasn’t able to continue his pity party for long. There was a knock on the door. He looked up, somewhat surprised. No one ever came to find him, preferring to call in their requests rather than come down to his office in the complex’s basement. 

“’s open!” he called out, his voice sounding almost rusty. 

The door pushed open and a head peeked around the corner. Her wide smile was nearly blinding in its intensity.

“Hello?”

Fitz was a bit embarrassed to admit he merely squeaked in reply.

“Oh, hello,” she continued. “I’m Jemma Simmons. I’m – going to be staying with May in 2A? She said she rung.”

“Yeah…uh, yeah. You need a key?”

Fitz cringed. Of course she needed the key. How else was she going to get in? Why else would she even be down there? Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice how stupid the question was, as she nodded and moved closer. Fitz stood, grabbing the key off the desk and leaning across it with his hand out.

He was completely startled when his fingers ended up brushing her palm and a little shock jumped between them.

“Oh! Electrostatic discharge,” the woman – Jemma – Ms. Simmons observed, laughing slightly.

“Tribo – ” Fitz said softly and half involuntarily, knowing such a statement would hardly impress most girls, and definitely wouldn’t impress anyone considering his brain couldn’t complete the – 

“Electric effect!” the woman continued.

Fitz raised his eyebrows in surprise, then coughed quickly, ducking his head in confusion at the little smile and spreading blush on her face. 

“So…um, that will open the deadbolt. Did May give you her security code?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you. I have it.”

Fitz had to know. He just had to. “How do you – that is, are you…friends with her?”

“May? Oh no, I haven’t even met the woman yet.”

Fitz felt even more confused.

“We work for the same, ah, company,” Ms. Simmons explained further. “And I had some problems with my new place so she’s graciously agreed to let me stay with her until it all gets sorted.”

“You’re S.H.I.E.L.D.?” It was hardly the most important part of her statement, but it was certainly the one that stuck out at him, even though it shouldn’t really have been surprising. 

“You…know about S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Fitz smiled. “Nearly everyone in this building is an agent,” he replied, offering no further explanation. Her little hint of exasperation and intrigue was too captivating, and it just made him want to keep her guessing. Keep her interested. Not – not that he thought she was _interested_ , just – 

“Well, I should…” she said, pointing a thumb behind her. 

“Right, yes, of course,” Fitz rambled, awkwardly shifting his stance and placing his hands on his hips. Then he immediately lifted his hand, tapping two fingers against his forehead quickly before leaning forward and grabbing a business card from his desk. He handed it to her, half hoping for another little spark. “If you need anything, you – uh, can call me. Day or night.” _Stop talking _.__

__“Thank you very much…Leopold,” she replied, glancing at the card before sticking it in her back pocket._ _

__Fitz winced. “Fitz.”_ _

__“Fitz? Thanks, Fitz.”_ _

__He couldn’t help but stare at her for one more second. Then he blinked and shook his head. “Happy to help, Miss Simmons.”_ _

__“Doctor,” she corrected in almost the same tone he had used moments before._ _

__“Doctor?” Fitz asked, raising an eyebrow. “Medical?”_ _

__“Biochem. Ph.D.”_ _

__“Ah,” Fitz replied, suddenly desperate to know more and conflicted as to whether he should say anything about his own – no, that wasn’t who he was anymore. “Then, I’m happy to help, _Doctor_ Simmons.”_ _

__“Oh!” she blushed again, shaking her head quickly and pressing a palm to her face. “I didn’t mean that – I – you can call me Jemma. If you want.”_ _

__Fitz grinned and felt gratified to see her grinning back. Her eyes actually seemed to sparkle. Just his luck that the first gorgeous, brilliant woman he’d met in ages was a tenant and wouldn’t look twice at the skinny, clumsy, stuttering maintenance man. He struggled for a reply, something to let him share one more moment with her, something that would make a lasting impression, something that – but nothing came to mind, and before he knew it, she was giving him one last little wave and nod of thanks and leaving his tiny office._ _

__Fitz exhaled sharply, falling back into his desk chair with a jolt._ _

__“Wow.”_ _

____

**

It had been a good 15 minutes since Jemma left the maintenance office and she was _still_ inwardly cringing. Honestly, it was like she’d never talked to an attractive man before, or something. It had just thrown her, is all. Every other maintenance man she’d ever known fit the stereotype perfectly – well over the hill, usually possessing a large gut and old worn jeans that never stayed up high enough and lecherous interest in her. She obviously had never returned the interest ( _Honestly, Jemma, there’s no proof she was returning anything this time._ ) and certainly never entertained any thoughts about…getting her drain snaked ( _Jemma, no. Naughty._ ) by any of them before. Until now.

Clearly, it had been too long since she’d been on a date. 

Jemma shook her head, then focused on the task at hand again. She had dragged several suitcases from her car all the way to the lobby of the building. In a way, she was glad she was treating this relocation as a fresh start, complete with plans to buy new furniture for her new place. It made it so much easier now, as she didn’t have to worry about what to do with all her things. Clothes, books, a few small items – these were all easy to fit into her little car and wouldn’t take up too much room in Agent May’s flat. 

But there were enough things - and they were heavy enough – to make her sigh in relief when she spotted a small lift in the corner. Jemma caught her breath as she waited for the car to arrive. When the doors finally opened, after a surprisingly long travel time and a grinding sort of noise that warned of its arrival, Jemma hesitated. Then she shook her head, dragged her belongings onto it, puffed a strand of hair off her face, and pressed the button for the second floor. She tried not to feel exceedingly lazy as she did so.

And then, as the grinding noise returned and the lift gave one very noticeable shudder before screeching to a halt somewhere between the ground and second floor, she also tried not to feel exceedingly worried and claustrophobic. 

She pressed the button several times, with no luck. She then called out “Help” several more times before she remembered it was the middle of the day and most of the residents were at work. Jemma felt panic rising, only stopping when she remembered the business card in her back pocket and the mobile in her purse. She moved quickly, grabbing both. She held the phone up, squinting a bit as she checked the signal and sighing in relief when she saw several bars.

**

“Fitz,” he answered before the second ring ended.

“Oh thank God!”

He fumbled the pen in his right hand but thankfully not the phone in his left. “Miss – Dr. S – uh, Jemma. What – what can I – is everything all right?”

“No, I’m stuck!”

Fitz hesitated, furrowing his brow. “Stuck…where?”

“In the lift.”

“Oh bloody hell, I should have warned you.” Fitz was already moving as he answered, opening the lock box and grabbing the drop key.

“Is it broken?”

“Only every other day,” Fitz joked, then cringed. She probably did not find the situation amusing. He added, more seriously, “It’s almost older than I am and needs to be replaced but the building owner’s been stalling.”

He made a quick detour to turn off the lift’s power before taking the stairs up to the lobby two at a time. 

“Well…how broken is it? How long am I going to be in here?”

Fitz grinned as he arrived at the lift. “Have you out in a jiffy,” he promised, before squatting down. He put the phone on the ground, leaving the call running in case he needed to speak to her again.

He reached up to insert the key, jiggling it around a bit until it caught, and then with a quite manly, thank you very much, grunt, he separated the doors. Then he exhaled, assessing the situation. The car hadn’t made it very far before it stopped, and he could see almost half of it. From past experience, he knew that she was in no real danger but fixing it in a timely manner was unlikely; he’d have to get her out some other way.

He was 95% certain that was his professional opinion and not based on any sort of desire to play the hero. 

Maybe 90%.

At any rate, with where the car was and considering his upper arm strength, it’d be easier and safer and probably less humiliating to lower her down than to try to pull her out from above. Fitz nodded at the plan, then sighed.

“Jemma,” he shouted, leaning over quickly to grab his mobile and bring it up to his ear. “Jemma?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Gonna have to pull you out of there, I’m afraid.”

“What? No.”

“Yep. I’m gonna open the inner doors and there should be more than enough room for you to slide out.”

“Fitz, no – I – ”

“Yep, see you soon.”

He hung up before she could protest further, feeling a little bad about it but not seeing any other way. And then he took a breath to calm himself, stepped forward while studiously avoiding glancing down the shaft, and began to work on the second set of doors. Soon enough they were open and he could see Jemma as she crouched down to look at him. 

“I don’t think I can do this, Fitz.”

“I’m right here. I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

“But…what if the doors close?”

“Won’t happen.”

“What if the car plummets and cuts me in half?”

“Really won’t happen.”

“What if – ”

“Jemma, the thing most likely to kill you at this point is starvation if you’re stuck in there too long. So, come on.”

“Actually, dehydration is a bigger concern. The average person can survive – ”

“I don’t care; come on.”

She sighed loudly. And then Fitz saw one of her legs come down as she sat on the bottom of the car. 

God, she had nice legs. At least he assumed so, even though they were covered in denim. 

He shook his head and focused. The other leg joined its pair, and he stepped closer, taking a breath to work up the courage to wrap his hand around her calf in silent confirmation that he was there and ready for her. 

“Ready?”

“I suppose. I should probably tell you that I’m afraid of heights. Well, not really. I’m afraid of falling to my death.”

“The fall wouldn’t kill you. It’s only one floor. Now if you were jumping out of a plane or something, then – ”

“Fitz.”

“Shutting up. OK, just…start to scoot forward and lower yourself down. I’ve got you.”

It was slow going, and if Fitz were honest, he probably moved slower than he really needed to. But only because he was kind of afraid he’d drop her after all. Not because he enjoyed the feeling of his arms wrapped around her, especially when she was low enough for him to have one around her waist and the other supporting her just below her bum. That – that would be wrong. Taking advantage of the situation. 

And then she was through, twisting her head to the side to clear the top of the door, exclaiming in surprise a little as he stepped back far enough to definitely remove them both from any possible danger. He lowered her to the floor then, feeling her wobble slightly as her toes touched the ground near his own feet. He kept his arms around her, pulling her a little closer than was probably necessary, as she gained her balance, and then found he still couldn’t separate from her. His only consolation was the impression that she felt the same way. Her hands rested on his chest, and she breathed rather harshly, puffs of air hitting against his neck and chin as she looked up at him. Finding the nerve somehow, he looked down and made eye contact. 

Their faces were a lot closer than he thought they were. 

“Thanks,” she breathed out.

“Welcome,” he whispered back. 

And then, unfortunately, she broke away from him, suddenly talking a mile a minute, apologizing for the difficulty and wondering about her belongings and generally avoiding looking at him at all. Fitz held up a hand to interrupt her.

“You just go on up to the flat. I’ll bring your stuff as soon as I can get the blasted thing figured out.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to – ”

Fitz sighed, not wanting to argue. “Then I’ll call you and we’ll carry everything up the stairs together. Teamwork.”

Jemma grinned then, nodding. She took several steps away and then faced him again. She rushed closer, placed her hands on his chest again to steady herself, and then quickly pressed her lips to his cheek.

“My hero,” she murmured, before hurrying away again.

Fitz willed her to look back. She didn’t, but she did stumble a bit on the first step, as if she knew he was watching her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should be about 3 or 4 parts, but will probably be posted relatively slowly (for me). I might bump the rating up if the scene to which it refers gets more explicit than I'm currently planning. 
> 
> ALSO, while I did google how to get someone out of a trapped elevator, I played it pretty fast and loose and vague here - leave those things to the professionals, people. /PSA


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing May noticed, before she even opened her apartment door, was the sound of conversation and laughter coming from her living room. She was regretting this decision already. _Polite, British, never see her_ , Maria’s voice mocked her. The second thing she noticed, as she opened the door, was how very close Dr. Jemma Simmons and Fitz were sitting next to each other on the couch, legs angled toward each other, Fitz fidgeting with something in his hands, Simmons beaming and continuously if absent-mindedly playing with her hair. Which meant the third thing she noticed was the tension.

May was a spy and could read body language well and, oh boy, did those two little nerds want to see each other naked.

“Fitz.”

He jumped visibly, then stood quickly, whirling to face her with a look of terror. May was glad to learn she still had it.

“Agent May, hello. Uh, welcome home. Sorry, I’ll just – ”

“Oh, Agent May,” Simmons interrupted, standing and walking over, hand outstretched. May took it somewhat reluctantly. “I can’t thank you enough. I promise I won’t be putting you out for very long.

Too late, May thought half-heartedly. It was a little too hard to stay annoyed when faced with such a genuinely nice person. Or with Fitz’s marked adoration returning as he recovered from the interruption. Even still, he quickly started heading towards the door, with Simmons following him and thanking him profusely for his help moving her in.

May watched – with a disconcerting level of interest – the interactions between them. Despite her best efforts, she had grown fond of Fitz over the years, mostly because he was quiet and kept to himself. Partially because she recognized in him her own conflict between grumpiness and bitterness on one hand and an unbreakable spirit and desire to do good on the other. And maybe a little because she always loved an underdog, and she expected Fitz to surprise them all someday, as soon as he got up off the mat. And now, she was fond of him for another reason – he had the most adorable grin. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen more than a polite twitch of his lips or a mocking smirk. She had to fight her own sincere smile as he nearly stumbled over his own feet in goodbye. 

She didn’t know this Simmons yet, but maybe her staying – for a day or two – would be worth it, if she could bring him out of his shell that much in only a few hours.

**

Jemma had offered to take May out for dinner in gratitude, and after some hesitation, May finally agreed. They walked down the street to a small, family-owned restaurant that May loved – with good reason, Jemma discovered. The conversation was awkward at first – well, through a good portion of the meal, actually – but they eventually began to be more comfortable with each other.

It was obvious that May was a loner, a bit cynical perhaps, and not one for small talk. Jemma had known enough field agents to not be surprised by any of that. But that didn’t mean May was also unkind or uninteresting. Jemma hoped that, with time, they might even become friends rather than just friendly. That would be good, considering she was new to the area and needed to make some new friends. It was a relief to have met one possibility on her very first day.

Well…two.

Jemma felt herself blushing at the thought. Honestly. _Honestly_. But she had, admittedly, been thinking about him in the back of her mind much of the evening. And, as they walked back into the room, leftovers in hand, she tried to think of a way to casually bring him up in conversation. 

The gods of electricity were on her side as May flipped the switch by the front door and the lights in the corner of the lofted ceiling turned on and then immediately burnt out. 

“Crap,” May commented. 

“Do you have extra bulbs?” Jemma asked.

May pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I do, but unless one of us grows another couple feet, they won’t do any good. Fitz?”

Jemma twitched a bit as May clearly switched conversations. 

“Bulbs are out in the living room. Got a few minutes?...See you soon.” She looked at Jemma, her face in shadows from the light in the hall. “He’ll bring a ladder.”

“How late does he work?” Jemma asked curiously. 

“He lives in the building, third floor. Good for the tenants, but perhaps too easy to call him at all hours.”

Jemma nodded in understanding. Before she could ask any more, May walked past her, turning after a few feet to enter the kitchen. The light switched on, and Jemma followed her in, pulling the door shut behind her and watching as May reached into a cupboard above the sink for a pack of light bulbs. She searched her mind for something to say while May moved again to place the pack on the counter then reached across the island, holding her hand out for the leftovers in Jemma’s hands. 

And then it was too late to learn any more about Fitz. There was a knock on the front door, and Jemma looked over, feeling her pulse pick up. It was beginning to get a little ridiculous how much she was reacting to him. She had just met him and knew barely anything about him. Plus, she had moved there for work, not romance. All she should be thinking about was all the exciting projects she’d get to research for S.H.I.E.L.D. in her new lab. This – this _crush_ was hardly professional. 

“You want to get it?” 

“Certainly,” Jemma agreed quickly, practically running over to the door.

“Hi Jemma,” Fitz greeted her cheerfully. “Three times in one day. I think that’s a record.”

“So sorry to bother you, Fitz,” she replied, holding the door wide and futilely reaching a hand out as if to help him carry the ladder inside. 

“No bother. Evening, May.”

May hummed a reply, but said nothing further as Fitz went to position the ladder underneath the burnt out lights. He turned back around, moving quickly to grab the replacements from May and then returning to the corner. 

“Do you – want me to hold the ladder?” Jemma asked hesitantly. 

“Um, sure.”

She absolutely did not lean forward to catch a whiff of his scent as he climbed past her. She certainly did not tilt her head up to watch as he stretched out, his shirt riding up to reveal a trail of hair disappearing into his jeans. Oh, and she definitely did not admire how said jeans hugged him in all the right places. 

It was over far too quickly, and soon he was twisting to look at May. “Want to give that switch a flip? Make sure these are good?”

She did, and Jemma blinked, looking away as the light blinded her. Jemma felt strangely disappointed as she watched Fitz pack up and leave with another smile and _good night_ to both of them. She couldn’t stop the soft sigh that escaped as the door closed behind him. May glanced over at her, and she tried to play it off as a yawn.

“Long day,” she observed. “I think I might go to bed.”

“Fine. Good night.”

Jemma nodded, looking down and scuffing her foot over the depressions left in the carpet by the legs of the ladder. Against her will, she spoke again.

“Fitz seems like a really good maintenance man. 

“Well,” May replied, with a sly sort of tone, “I don’t think a couple busted bulbs are too taxing for someone with a Ph.D. in Engineering.”

Jemma gaped. “What?”

“Fitz is very overqualified for the job.”

“Why on earth…that is, how…?”

May shrugged, delaying her answer as she turned to lock the door and set the security system. “He was at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, actually, maybe a year or two before you started, I’d guess. But there was an…incident involving the pool and a prank pulled by a cadet from Operations and Fitz got some brain damage. You’d hardly know it now. He’s had a hell of a recovery, but you should have seen him a couple years ago. He dropped out, obviously, but S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to support him so. He’s here.”

Jemma blinked. “That actually happened?” was the first thing she managed to say.

May tilted her head questioningly. 

“I thought that was just something they told us. A bogeyman story to put an end to the prank wars. Or even just an urban legend like the story about the Cavalry.”

May looked up sharply, but Jemma mostly ignored that reaction. She was still too flummoxed to learn the stories about the near drowning had been true. She had heard so many times that he was young, would have beaten her for the youngest graduate, if he had managed to graduate, but she figured those were just exaggerations to make it all the more tragic. People had said it had only been a couple years – the same year she would have started if she hadn’t postponed for a postdoc, actually – but still…it had only really ever been whispered about and it was hard to determine what was based in fact and what was nothing but rumor.

And if she were being entirely honest, she was intrigued and relieved by the knowledge that he apparently was or at least had been _quite_ the scientist. The possibility of a fling was one thing, but an actual relationship with someone who really appreciated science was even better. And a prodigy just like her? That had always seemed too much to hope for. 

“Well,” May finally responded, almost smiling. “You do have to watch out for pranks. You never know what they might lead to.”

The comment felt vaguely ominous. Jemma watched, speechless, as May walked past her to her room.

**

“Oh, please, no. Oh, please,” Jemma begged, turning the key in the ignition again and pumping the pedal.

Nothing happened beyond a very unpleasant sound. Jemma whimpered, leaning forward to rest her head against her arms on the steering wheel. She was going to be late for her first day of work at her new job. May had already left too, so she couldn’t even ask for a ride. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly to prevent the forming tears from leaking out. 

And then there was a knock on her car window. She sat up abruptly, startled. She tried to be surreptitious as she wiped at her eyes, and then she looked over to see who it was. 

Fitz. 

Jemma swallowed, then opened the car door. 

“Sounds like you got a dead battery,” he observed as she climbed out.

“Yes.” Jemma sighed. “Just what I need on my first day. I’m going to be late.”

Fitz nodded in commiseration, staring at the car instead of meeting her eyes. 

“So,” he finally said. “Do you want me to…jump you?”

Jemma’s eyes widened involuntarily, and she turned to stare at him, jaw dropping a bit. Did he just say…?

“What?” she breathed out. 

“No, that’s – ” Fitz winced, lifting his hand to his forehead briefly before holding it out and turning it in a small circle. “That’s not right. Um…give you a jump. Your car. Ca – cables.”

“Oh. Right.” _Damn_. Jemma pretended she wasn’t slightly disappointed by that clarification and turned to look at her car instead. “Well, how long would it take?”

Fitz looked at his watch and shrugged. “Not that long. But I could give you a ride, then come back and jump it, if you want me to.”

It seemed almost too good to be true, getting a chance to spend more time with him. But it also seemed like something she couldn’t possibly ask him to do.

“I wouldn’t want to – I mean, surely you have better – ” Jemma trailed off awkwardly. 

Fitz glanced at her, then shrugged, giving her a small, conspiratorial smile. “The only thing I have on my agenda this morning so far is a clogged toilet on the fourth floor, so really, you’d be doing me a favor.”

Jemma barked a laugh. After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “All right, thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Fitz replied, holding one hand out to guide her away. 

Jemma closed her car door and locked it quickly, then walked in the direction he indicated. She pretended not to notice how closely she was walking next to him – close enough to feel the heat of his body. When they arrived at his car, he opened the door for her, and Jemma climbed inside, feeling a little flustered by the chivalry. As he walked around to the other side, she breathed in deeply, letting it out slowly in an attempt to calm herself. 

It was pointless, though. She spent the morning feeling incredibly happy, which she tried to pass off as being caused by the new job. But, when her heart leapt when Fitz called her to inform her the battery was fine except for a loose cable and he’d pick her up in the afternoon, she suspected there was another explanation.

**

The following Saturday, Jemma finally decided to unpack. She had considered just living out of her suitcase the entire time, but she hadn’t had much luck in finding a new place – the only flat that looked remotely decent wouldn’t be available for two months – and May herself even told Jemma she should just get settled as much as possible.

She also, Jemma noticed, cleared out to run errands as soon as the work began. Not that Jemma could blame her. Moving was annoying enough when it was your stuff; helping someone else required a much stronger friendship than the one they were tentatively developing. 

So she was all by herself for the moment and currently in the back of the walk-in closet stacking sweaters that definitely wouldn’t be needed anytime soon. Jemma exhaled sharply and lifted a hand to wipe the sweat off her forehead. 

“Goodness, it’s hot,” she observed.

She tightened her ponytail as she walked back out to the bedroom. Even barefoot, in nothing but a tank top and some shorts that were really too short – she should donate or toss them already – she felt unbearably warm. Jemma considered dialing the thermostat down a bit, but didn’t want to do so without May’s permission. It _was_ her flat, after all, and it should be at a temperature she found comfortable. 

It was that thought that made Jemma realize something seemed weird. Some of the machinery for the A/C was in a small closet next to the water heater, and she could hear it running. It was working extremely hard, which just did not fit with the sauna-like state of the place.

“Oh no,” Jemma murmured. She walked into the bathroom and closed the door, trying to minimize the surrounding environment. And then she held her hand up directly underneath the vent. “Oh no,” she said again, when all she felt blasting out was room-temperature air. 

Leaving the bathroom again, Jemma hurried to her bedroom and dug through her purse until she found her phone. She found his contact quickly, reminding herself that it was not weird at all to have an emergency maintenance number saved to her phone. 

She only wished that she had saved it for that reason. 

It barely rang once before he answered.

“Fitz, hi, it’s Jemma.”

“I know.”

There was a pause, and Jemma awkwardly searched for a response. She felt relieved when he spoke again, sounding embarrassed.

“Caller…um, caller ID. I have – everyone’s number saved.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Is everything OK?”

“Yes, I’m fine. No, I mean – ” Jemma pressed two fingers between her eyes, shaking her head. She didn’t understand how she could feel like such an idiot every time she talked with him. “I think the A/C’s busted.”

“Huh, OK. I’ll be right there”

“See you soon.”

Jemma hung up, then quickly turned to look at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. She grimaced immediately. Braless except for the built-in cups of the tank top, ratty old cut-offs, covered in sweat, hair a mess, and she hadn’t bothered with make-up that morning. Certainly not what she’d consider irresistible…

But there was no time to clean up or change, so she’d just have to deal with it. Hopefully she didn’t smell too bad. She lifted one arm and turned her head, sniffing at her pit experimentally.

“Could be worse,” she muttered.

And on that less than promising note, there was a knock on the door. Jemma hurried to answer it, running her hands down her shorts to wipe the sweat off them. She opened the door with a wide smile, hoping a warm welcome would distract him from her appearance.

No such luck, as he openly gave her a once-over and then snapped his eyes back up to hers. Jemma tried not to cringe, wondering if there was any way to salvage whatever was going on between them after this. 

“Wow, it is,” Fitz said, breaking off to clear his throat. “It is hot in here.”

Jemma forced a smile and let him in, trailing behind him as he went to the utility closet. Her unpacking was forgotten as they began to talk, and later, when he ran down to check the unit outside, she poured them both glasses of iced tea. When he got back and gulped down his, she was so focused on the condensation dripping on his hands and the bead of sweat rolling down his throat and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed that she barely followed along as he talked about the refrigerant leaking out of a crack in the line.

**

“Maybe Fitz has an idea.”

The sound of his name startled Fitz and he turned quickly. Jemma and May were coming up the stairs about half a flight behind him, both carrying bags of groceries. He hesitated for a moment, wanting to offer help with them but not wanting May to kick him down the stairs for suggesting she couldn’t manage.

“Hello,” he finally said, holding out a hand awkwardly. “Can I…”

“I’ve got this,” May answered, predictably. She nodded in Jemma’s direction. “Simmons has the heaviest bag.”

“Oh, no, I’m – ”

Fitz didn’t wait for Jemma to demur, hurrying down the stairs to meet them and take the bag that she seemed to be struggling with. When he reached for the other one as well, she shook her head quickly, smiling at him and briefly touching her newly free hand to his elbow. Fitz felt like his brain short-circuited at the contact, and then he suddenly remembered May’s earlier statement.

“Idea about what?” he asked, as they all started walking again.

“Can we tell him? Sorry, it’s just work-related,” Jemma replied, talking to him and May at the same time. 

Fitz fought a smile, looking to May to explain.

“His clearance level is higher than yours,” May revealed. 

“Oh! Really?”

“You think S.H.I.E.L.D. agents let just anyone have total access to their homes?”

Jemma gaped at them both for another moment, and Fitz grinned wider. 

“So what’s the problem?”

Jemma shook her head, then stared ahead as they reached the landing and started walking down the hall.

“They have me developing a nonlethal serum,” she explained. “Something that can incapacitate a person in the field immediately but with no long-term harm. That’s not the problem – I’ve developed a dendrotoxin formula that should work perfectly. It’s just the delivery mechanism. I doubt field agents want to, say, use a blowgun to shoot darts dipped in the stuff.”

Fitz nodded, thinking for a moment. It actually would be perfect for the – no, he hadn’t thought about that project in years. He had thrown away all his schematics and prototypes. Except for the one Wa – Fitz shook his head quickly.

“Sor – sorry, no…clue.”

May shot a sharp and knowing look at him. Fitz swallowed and pretended he didn’t see it. When they arrived at the flat and invited him inside for dinner, he declined quickly. Handing Jemma back the bag, he hurried away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that I bumped the rating up for this story, but that's largely for the next chapter. This one is still pretty "Mature".

Fitz heaved a sigh, then sat up and peered at the clock across the room. It had been a long time since he was plagued like this – with both tech ideas and memories best left buried. But if he wanted to get any sleep that night, he needed to get the thoughts out of his head and onto some paper. He threw his sheets aside and rolled off the mattress.

After flicking on the lamp at his desk, he sat down and pulled a sketch pad out of the bottom drawer. He held his pencil above a blank page for a long moment, and then he got to work. The original design came back easily – created years ago at the Academy when freshman cadets had been paired with their counterparts in Operations to develop joint projects; created by him and someone he thought had been a friend but who turned out to…

Fitz shook his head and continued to draw, elaborating and expanding on the details with new ones that must have been subconsciously forming all these years, considering how easily they flowed. He didn’t even notice the time passing until his room filled with sunlight. Fitz sat up straighter, looking around in slight confusion and blinking to focus his eyes. Then he quickly stood, changing into his discarded clothes from the previous day. Gathering his materials, he left his flat and ran downstairs, wanting to get there before he chickened out. 

It was, probably thankfully for his health and safety, a bleary-eyed Jemma and not May who answered after his fifth knock. 

“Fitz? What are you – ”

He squeezed past her, some small part of his brain registering the t-shirt that she wore as pajamas and that just barely hit at mid-thigh. No time to appreciate that right now, but his brain filed it away for later.

Instead, he walked to the kitchen counter and spread his drawings out one by one. Jemma stepped closer, looking almost dazed.

“What’s that?”

“I call it the Night-Night Gun,” Fitz murmured. He awkwardly pointed at the first picture, before hooking his hands around his lower back. “The bullets are…nonlethal. Heavy stopping power. Break up under sub, um, subcut…”

“Subcutaneous tissue,” Jemma whispered, picking up the second sheet. Her brow furrowed as she read the specs. “Does that say a point-one microliter dose? Oh, Fitz. I’m not Hermione! I can’t create instant paralysis with that.”

Fitz spluttered. “The bullets are hollow. They’ll be breaking apart in the chamber.”

“You could use a higher caliber round or – or read a book!”

Fitz inhaled deeply, preparing to argue with her more, only to lose his train of thought when she turned to him, reaching out to touch his chest lightly as she stepped closer. They were only inches apart.

“Fitz, this is brilliant though,” she said. “A little work and it will be exactly what I need. We…make a pretty good team.”

Fitz ducked his head, swallowing. He looked up at her again. “This isn’t who I am anymore, not really. But…you make me miss it.”

Jemma’s mouth quirked up in a smile, and Fitz couldn’t drag his gaze away if he tried. Almost involuntarily, he felt himself leaning even closer, watched as her eyes darted down to stare at his own lips. Fitz exhaled shakily, his eyelids drifting closed and his mouth starting to pucker. He felt the steam of Jemma’s breath, heard nothing but his own pounding pulse and –

The sound of an alarm clock coming from May’s room, some muffled swearing strangely close, as if she were standing by her bedroom door, and then static as she turned off the radio faster than he thought humanly possible. 

Fitz backed away quickly, clearing his throat. Jemma smiled awkwardly at him, and they both looked away from each other. 

“There’s no way we’re calling it the Night-Night Gun,” Jemma declared, her voice a bit shaky.

**

“Hi May!” Fitz called out from 2C’s balcony, where he was fixing the screen door that had gotten knocked about during the last thunderstorm.

She looked up at him, gave him a wave and a rather mischievous smile, then put her earbuds in and set off on a run. Fitz grimaced, unable to imagine a less enjoyable way of getting exercise. Then he focused on his work again, finishing quickly and smiling to himself as he opened and closed the door a few times to test it. He put his tools back in the appropriate hooks on his belt, and headed out of the flat, locking the door behind him before walking down the hall.

He was right outside of 2A when he heard Jemma scream. He froze. Moments later, there was another scream, a loud thump, and silence. Fitz moved without thinking, pulling the master key out of his pocket and nearly fumbling it in worry as he unlocked the door.

“Jemma?” he called out as soon as he opened it.

The shower was running and he ran straight for the bathroom, bursting through the door without even knocking.

“Jemma?!”

They both shrieked as he nearly tripped over her. Hanging onto the doorknob for dear life, Fitz finally caught his balance and then focused on where she was sitting on the floor, soaking wet and shivering, rubbing her elbow and unfortunately covered by the twisted up shower curtain.

Fortunately. _Fortunately_ covered by the twisted up shower curtain.

“Are you OK?” he asked, even as she blurted a confused “Fitz? What – ?”

“I heard you scream,” he tried to explain, before crouching down next to her and reaching a futile hand out. “Are you hurt?”

“Um, can you – ” Jemma pointed at something over his shoulder and Fitz twisted to see a towel hanging on the rack. 

He stood quickly and grabbed it. He faced her again, handing it to her while grabbing the plastic with his other hand in the hopes of helping her figure a way out of it. 

“Um, Fitz. Fitz. Fitz!”

He yanked his hand back, realizing just then where exactly it had been and how exactly that looked. 

“Sorry.”

“I got it. Can you just – ”

Fitz stood again and turned around, placing his hands on his hips and fighting a very deep blush. 

“Sorry,” he said again. 

Then he darted forward and bent to turn off the shower, nearly yelping when he felt how cold the water was. He heard rustling behind him as Jemma moved. Shortly, she stood with a slight grunt. After another few moments, she said his name. 

Fitz faced her and felt momentarily speechless. Her own blush, or perhaps the flush from the temperature of the water, had spread across her whole body, the color contrasting against the pale cream of the towel that was just wide enough to wrap around her and just long enough to cover her – her – her – 

Fitz forced his gaze up, nearly stopping again at the cleavage revealed by the knot in the towel and dotted with beads of water and goosebumps and freckles. When his eyes finally met her own, he couldn’t begin to read all the different emotions in her expression. 

“What happened?” he managed to ask.

Jemma gestured at the shower, then hugged herself as if she were trying to cover up more. Fitz frantically searched for every disgusting thought he could find to stop the erection he could feel forming. 

“No water came out at first,” she explained rather breathlessly. “I was looking up at the shower head, trying to figure out what was wrong, and got a face full of _very_ cold water and then…”

Jemma looked down and gestured at the shower curtain still curled up on the floor where she had landed. 

“Are you OK?” Fitz asked again. 

Jemma exhaled deeply, then nodded. “I’m fine. Just embarrassed.”

Fitz shook his head, unable to stop himself from looking down at her body again. “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he breathed out. 

His mouth dropped open as he realized he said that aloud, and he didn’t know which of them turned redder. 

“I’ll…check your water heater,” he suggested.

“I’ll get dressed,” Jemma responded quickly, turning and walking out of the room. 

The movement spread apart the slit in her towel wrap, revealing bare skin all the way up her thigh, over her hip and up to her waist before she grabbed it and pulled it shut. As soon as she was out of the room and he heard the door to her bedroom close, Fitz collapsed against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing out sharply. He pressed the heel of his palm against his cock, trying to tame it into submission.

Sousa, the retired, paranoid agent in 4A, limping in wild-eyed and brandishing a gun, his cane apparently forgotten, helped with that.

**

Jemma nearly dropped her dirty dishes when the phone on the kitchen wall rang just as she walked past it. That phone _never_ rang.

“Do you want me to get it?” she called out.

“Yes, please,” May replied, not stopping the tai chi she was doing in the living room. 

Jemma leaned over to deposit her dishes on the counter, then turned to the phone. She grabbed it as it rang a third time.

“Hello?”

There was a long pause. 

“I’m sorry. I must have the wrong number.”

“Are you looking for May? This is her roommate.”

Another pause. “ _Melinda_ May?”

“Yes, may I ask who’s calling?”

“Coulson,” the man replied, his tone still skeptical.

Jemma placed her hand over the phone and turned to face May. She was transitioning to a different position and shot Jemma a look that suggested she wasn’t particularly keen on being interrupted.

“It’s someone named Coulson,” Jemma said _sotto voce_.

May stopped moving, straightening as she looked at Jemma with an expression that was half surprise and half annoyance. She walked over, holding her hand out for the phone. Jemma backed away and tried to pretend she wasn’t listening.

“Phil? Is something wrong?”

Jemma tiptoed over to her dishes and carried them the rest of the way to the sink. It was the only thing she could think of that allowed her to stay in the room without being too noticeable as she eavesdropped. She turned on a low stream of water to rinse off the plate without disturbing – or drowning out – May’s side of the conversation.

“I can’t believe you called me at home about this. I told you no at the office. You’ll have to find another pilot.”

_Pilot?!_

“I’m sorry, no…wait, what? What jail break?”

 _Jail break?!_ Jemma’s life had gotten so much more interesting since she’d moved to town and met May, that was for sure.

“I don’t care what Garrett says, you know what that asshole did. To Fitz and his parents. When you find him, you should shoot on sight.”

Jemma nearly dropped her plate at the mention of Fitz. She turned to May, wide-eyed, and didn’t even hear the rest of the conversation. May hung up and looked at her.

“What’s going on?” Jemma demanded.

May closed her eyes and sighed. “That was a friend of mine, from back when I was in the field.”

“You were in the field?” Jemma asked, surprised. She quickly shook her head. “Not important. What about Fitz?”

“The guy who – the cadet from Operations, after he got kicked out, he went down a worse path. Burned his house down with his parents still in it, got sent to prison. His S.H.I.E.L.D. mentor, Garrett, had tried really hard to keep him in the Academy, tried to blame the whole thing on Fitz until he woke up from the coma and could tell everyone what really happened. Anyway, Garrett just called Coulson. Ward has escaped, and they’re on their way to catch him. Coulson has been trying to get me to join his team for a couple weeks and thought this might be the provocation I needed.”

“I don’t – I don’t know what – is he going to come here? Come after Fitz?”

May shrugged. “I doubt it. My guess is he’ll go after his brothers. But if he does come here, then the best place for me is here, where I can protect Fitz.”

Jemma swallowed thickly. “We should tell him.”

“No,” May disagreed immediately. “I don’t think we should worry him until or unless we have to.”

“But May – ”

“Trust me, Jemma. I’ve known him longer.”

 _I know him better_ , Jemma wanted to argue. Instead, she decided to follow May’s advice. She was a trained field agent, after all. Apparently.

“You were in the field?” she asked again.

May shrugged.

“Why did you leave it?”

May dropped eye contact, looking to the side. “Mission went bad.”

Jemma knew enough field agents not to push for more of an explanation than that. She merely reached out and grabbed hold of May’s hand, giving it a small squeeze. May looked at her again and forced a small smile.

“It messed up my life for a long time. I lost a person that mattered to me, and I lost the hope for a future with him. It’s been…nice having someone to come home to, share things with again.”

The sentiment was unexpected and, frankly, uncharacteristic. Jemma blinked rapidly against the sudden tears and smiled widely. 

“I know I’m not the only one here who feels that way,” May added slyly. “So you might as well just stop looking for another place.”

Jemma opened and closed her mouth, unable to admit that she hadn’t looked at rental listings for almost a week. Definitely unable to admit her own hopes for the future and her own attachment to the people she had befriended here. Even if she was currently avoiding one of them out of lingering mortification after that whole shower thing.

**

Jemma grumbled quietly to herself when her hair fell down in front of her face again. She really should have put it in a ponytail before she cleaned out the kitchen sink. She reached up to pull her hair back once more. As she tugged at it, her thumbnail and some hair caught under her necklace. She felt the clasp break and the chain slither around her neck as it fell. Even though she moved quickly to catch it, she could only stare in horror as it landed in the sink and swirled down the drain under the rush of running water.

Jemma gasped, moving quickly to shut off the tap. One hand went to her mouth and she reached the other one down the drain, groping around the parts of the garbage disposal. She felt nothing.

“Oh no,” she whispered, nearly crying. The necklace had been a gift from her grandmother and held a great deal of sentimental value to her, and she couldn’t believe it was lost to her forever.

She opened the cupboard and crouched down, looking helplessly at the pipes. 

“Dammit,” she muttered, wondering whether it would be worse to call Fitz and face him again or try to get it herself, accidentally break something and _then_ have to call Fitz. She had two Ph.D.s. How hard could it _be_? 

She considered waiting for May to get home to see if she knew anything about plumbing. And then she shook her head at herself. This was ridiculous. So he had seen her practically naked. Under other circumstances, she certainly wouldn’t have complained. She just knew that the more times she made a fool of herself in front of him, the less likely those other circumstances were to happen.

Jemma walked over to her mobile, wiping her hands on her shorts. She picked up the phone, sighed and dialed.

**

“You…dropped your necklace down the sink?”

“Yes.”

“OK…I’ll be right there.”

Fitz hung up and then stared at his phone for a moment. Of all the reasons she had called him, this… 

He thought about the conversation he’d had with his friends Mack and Hunter the other day about Jemma and everything that had been happening. And he realized that maybe Mack had been right when he said that Jemma was trying to seduce him. 

Fitz stood abruptly, feeling his heart start to race. He cupped his palm over his mouth and blew out quickly to test his breath. Could be worse. Fitz couldn’t move for one moment, and then he opened the desk drawer and found the condom that Hunter had tucked into his shirt pocket that night, his grin somewhere between supportive and mocking. Fitz slipped it into his back pocket, his fingers feeling weirdly thick.

And then he hurried out of the office.

**

“Do you see it?” Jemma asked, trying not to sound too worried.

“Don’t have the pipe off yet.”

It was somewhat difficult to hear Fitz, so she crouched down next to where he was lying on his back, head under the sink. She opened her mouth to speak again, just as she lost her balance and prevented herself from falling on top of him by grabbing his…thigh.

Very high on his thigh.

Not really his thigh so much as his groin.

Jemma yanked her hand back even as Fitz sat up in surprise and, judging by the noise, slammed into the pipe.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” he shouted in pain, dropping back down.

Jemma fell backward onto her bum and lifted both hands to her mouth. Her eyes widened as she screamed internally. And a little bit externally. 

“I am so sorry! I – ”

Fitz was motionless for a moment before he started to slide out from under the sink. Jemma couldn’t bear to look at him, so she moved quickly. Hopping to her feet, she took two steps over to the fridge.

“Let me get you an ice pack.”

“Jemma,” Fitz said softly.

She closed the freezer and turned to look at him, feeling even worse when she saw the red mark on his forehead he was rubbing.

“I wish you wouldn’t – ” he began. He stopped and took a breath. “I mean, maybe you could just ask me to dinner or something, instead of all this. Someone might get seriously injured pretty soon.”

Jemma’s humiliation turned to surprised confusion – and then outrage. “I beg your pardon?”

Fitz gestured at the sink, but didn’t say anything else. 

“My necklace broke and fell down the drain,” Jemma pointed out testily. 

“Yeah, and before that,” he argued, moving another step closer with each example, “it was the turned-down water heater, and before that, it was the cut air conditioner line, and then the conveniently dead car battery. Do I need to go on? Do I need to point out that you’ve called me more times in a few weeks than May has the entire time she’s lived in this unit?”

Jemma held up a hand, stopping him even as he backed her into the fridge. “You have a pretty high opinion of yourself. Maybe if you were a better maintenance man – ”

“I am a _great_ maintenance man,” Fitz countered, before leaning down and kissing her.


	4. Chapter 4

A sharp gasp was forced from Jemma as Fitz pushed her back into the fridge and deepened the kiss. She sunk against it in boneless pleasure, grateful as his arms tightened their hold around her. She’d get back to their argument, tell him how absolutely wrong he was, in a moment. Just as soon as she finally got to feel what it was like to slide her fingers through his hair and her tongue into his mouth. One, or maybe both, of them groaned at the sensation, and Fitz crowded up against her even more. He broke away, causing Jemma to whimper and attempt to chase his lips, until he latched them onto her neck and began to suck. Her whole body tingled in delighted anticipation, and she bucked her hips once before setting to work nibbling at his earlobe. 

“Fitz, _Fitz_.” 

He responded by gripping both her shoulders and sliding her towards the corner between the fridge and sink. She could hear several magnets drop to the floor, followed by a few menus. He had to pull her slightly forward to clear the fridge handle, but soon enough she felt the edge of the counter digging into her lower back. She leaned away to look at him, knowing her eyelids were heavy, her breathing fast, her lips swollen. He looked equally wrecked. One long beat passed, the two of them staring at each other in arousal and perhaps some apprehension, and then they were kissing again. Jemma let out a little yelp as Fitz lifted her to the counter, but she quickly wrapped both her arms and legs around him and tugged him closer. The reversal in their heights, the experience of bending down to reach him as he tilted his head up, gave her a heady sense of power and only inflamed her desire.

And then it increased tenfold when Fitz slid his hand up under her skirt until it reached her hip. She gave herself a mental pat on the back for choosing to wear a skirt that day and – even better – for procrastinating on laundry and having to wear some of her _special occasion_ underthings as a result. Someone in the universe was looking out for her. Although Fitz would probably think she’d planned that too, the arrogant man. She had half a mind to stop and – he slid his index finger under the band of said pants, stroking the pad of his finger back and forth over the bump of her iliac crest. And then, quite suddenly, he moved his hand backwards, still beneath the fabric, until he was cupping the bare skin of her bum. Jemma squeaked in surprise, only to squeak again when he pulled her forward and she almost felt like she was going to fall off the edge. But he held her tight, reminiscent of the way he supported her the first day they met and he rescued her from the elevator. It seemed almost fitting. It seemed like this had been inevitable from that very moment.

Her legs spread wider, her skirt rode up, and she could feel the rough denim of his fly and the erection it trapped pressing against her crotch. Jemma fell backwards, her head thumping against the cupboard, and she sought out some kind of leverage with her feet even as she attempted to rock her hips and slide herself up and down along his length through his jeans and the increasingly damp barrier of her knickers. She turned her head to the side, breathing in labored gasps, eyes twitching beneath their lids.

“Oh God, oh God, Fitz.”

He exhaled sharply, leaning forward to rest his forehead against her sternum, and she could smell the sweat and grease and dust in his hair from his day’s work as she turned to press her lips to his temple. He brought his free hand up, struggling with her skirt for a moment before flipping it completely up. He groaned at the sight, then cupped his hand over her, grinding the heel of his palm against her clit. Jemma let out a long moan, arching her back and pushing her head harder into the cupboard. She reached out, grabbing onto the freezer handle for support and twisting her other hand in his shirt collar, and she pressed her foot against…something behind him, using it as a counterbalance as she rocked her hips faster. One hard thrust from him, one more circle from his wrist in just the right spot and she was coming with a strangled shout. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her as she writhed. At some point, she accidentally pulled open the freezer and kicked at what turned out to be the faucet, the rush of water barely audible over the sound of her pulse and breathless moans. 

Fitz pulled away from her and she protested weakly. He chuckled in response, returning to her as soon as he turned off the water. 

“Don’t want to flood the place. Or wash that necklace away,” he teased.

Jemma blinked her eyes open, confused at first by the statement. Oh, right. Her necklace.

“Worry about it later.” 

Fitz merely gazed at her with dangerously soft eyes that contradicted the rather smug smirk beneath them. Jemma would have to punish him for that. Later. For now, all she did was push at his chest until he backed far enough away for her to lower herself to the ground. He kept his arms around her, supporting her as she touched down on incredibly shaky legs. But once she felt strong enough, she moved as quickly as she could, sliding both hands under her skirt and pushing her knickers down until they pooled at her feet. She stepped out of them, hooked her fingers around Fitz’ tool belt and tugged. 

He followed her willingly, more than a little speechless, as she brought them both over to the kitchen table. Jemma turned and hopped onto it before reaching her other hand out and hurriedly unhooking his belt. The tools struck the ground with much clattering, but neither one of them seemed to care. Jemma had already moved onto his jeans. As she started to push them down, Fitz came back to himself; he held up a hand as he reached the other into his back pocket and pulled out a condom.

Jemma smirked, simultaneously pushing down on his clothes. Then she plucked the package from his fingers, opening it and putting the condom on him herself to prevent any grime on his hands from getting into her…pipe. 

“Now who’s planning all this out?” she teased as she finished rolling it down. 

He looked at her, his expression too dazed to be defensive or defiant. Jemma bit her lip coquettishly and lowered herself until she was flat on the table. She twisted slightly, tucking her chin so she could see Fitz, and then oh so barely spread her legs a little wider. He got the invitation loud and clear, hurrying to toe out of his shoes so he could kick his clothes off the rest of the way. Within moments, he was climbing on top of her. 

Jemma couldn’t – didn’t even try to – stop the giddiness bubbling up inside her. She hooked her feet together behind his arse and wrapped her arms around him tightly, one hand on the small of his back, the other loosely curled around his neck, fingers lightly digging into his scalp. He kissed her passionately, dizzyingly, and after a moment’s hesitation, he shifted around to position himself. Jemma moaned in encouragement, lifting up as he steadily slid inside her. 

“Fitz,” she damn near whined. 

He raised his head and chest, supporting his weight on his elbows as he smoothed her hair off her face with both hands and stared into her eyes. Jemma wasn’t sure what he was looking for, or if the hopeful plea in his expression meant he too wanted this to be so much more, but all she could do was gaze back at him, suspecting her own short- and long-term desires were clear as day. She lifted her hands to his cheeks, pulled him down to kiss her again, and sighed into his mouth. He began to move, slower than she would have expected following their early, practically uncontrollable rutting, but then faster and more forceful as they raced to new peaks of pleasure. The table rocked and creaked beneath them somewhat alarmingly, but not enough to make them stop. Jemma couldn’t believe she was so close to another orgasm already and then with that very thought, she was there, voiceless this time as another wave – less explosive but longer and deeper – rolled through her. Her arms and legs turned into vises, holding Fitz to her tight enough she could feel every one of his muscles tensing as he released. 

They held each other close, immobile except for their heaving breaths. One of Jemma’s legs slipped off Fitz, ending with the foot hanging uncomfortably several inches from the ground. Completely involuntarily, Jemma started giggling. With a groan, Fitz pushed up to look at her, cocking one eyebrow questioningly. Jemma just laughed harder, slapping one palm to the side of her face.

“That was straight out of a porno,” she managed to say. “Lonely housewife and the handyman with the large _plunger_.”

His other eyebrow rose to match its pair and his grin widened. “Large? Really?”

Jemma rolled her eyes, still chuckling as she added, “Screw, nail, drill – have you noticed how many words are – ”

“Are you done?” Fitz asked, feigning offended annoyance. 

Jemma pulled him down for another kiss, finding it difficult to purse her lips when she just wanted to keep smiling.

“That was amazing,” she whispered when they separated, and Fitz kissed her again in response.

Eventually, he pulled out of her, both of them hissing from sensitivity. Jemma licked her lips, watching as Fitz stood, hunched over to take care of the condom, then looked around. He spotted the roll of paper towel on the counter, stepping over to grab some to wrap up the condom before tossing it in the bin normally under the sink and currently in the far corner. She’d have to empty that before May got home. But for now, Jemma took the opportunity to ogle his bum. She hummed in approval, and then again when he turned to face her and she got another view of the front angle. 

“My eyes are up here,” he joked. 

Jemma grinned, looking up at him and feeling oddly sad as he walked back to his clothes and pulled them on.

“Should probably fix that table,” he observed. “’s wobbling more than it should.”

Jemma let her eyes drift closed, smiling fondly. “Not sure how you possibly have any energy right now but can you find my necklace first? Give me some time to recover a bit here?”

“Wait…there’s really a necklace?”

Jemma burst into laughter. “Yes!” she shouted.

**

It had been several hours since she and Fitz had – stripped their hardware, and unfortunately at least 45 minutes since he had been called away for a malfunctioning clothes washer, and Jemma was still filled with joy and excitement. And maybe some lingering arousal.

She held her glass of ice water to her cheek, hoping to calm herself down. A glance to the opposite corner of the kitchen where Fitz had held her as he got her off with nothing but some skillful frottage didn’t help in that department. Jemma exhaled, humming softly, feeling her eyelids droop and the corners of her mouth twitch up as she remembered. 

May entering the apartment startled her, and Jemma jumped, water nearly sloshing out of her glass. She pushed off the counter to stand straight and tried to appear natural. 

“Oh, hello, May. How was your afternoon?”

“Hello, Jemma. Fine. How was yours?”

Jemma wondered how to answer that truthfully. She settled on, “Just lovely,” and hoped her smile wasn’t too dopey.

Said smile disappeared immediately when May held up a bag of take-out and then placed it on the table, pulling a chair out and dropping into it.

“Want any? I ordered too much.”

“Oh…” Jemma watched nervously as May stretched across the table for the napkin holder. “No, thank you, I’m not hungry,” she added, even as May’s brow furrowed and she lowered her head even closer to the table, giving it a cautious sniff. 

“Jemma?”

“Hmm?” she asked as innocently as possible.

“Did you wipe off the table with _bleach_?”

“Um…yes?”

May looked up at her curiously. “Regular cleaner wasn’t good enough?”

Jemma forced a laugh. “No. No, it was just – um, Fitz noticed it was wobbly earlier and fixed it. So I thought I’d just give it a thorough cleaning after that.”

May stared at her for a long moment, then looked at the table, a slightly ill expression on her face. 

“I don’t want to know any more,” she said. 

After a moment of speechlessness, Jemma simply shrugged and nodded.

**

“Fitz!”

He turned, his pulse immediately rocketing into warp speed in terror. May walked closer, zeroing in on him. She knew. She had to know. And now she was going to kill him for defiling her roommate and kitchen in one fell swoop. Fitz took a deep breath and stood his ground, determined not to run away.

“Ev – everything OK?”

May shot him a look. Fitz gulped. 

“Just curious if you’ve seen anything weird.”

“Weird…how?”

“People that shouldn’t be here. Phone hang-ups. That kind of thing.”

Fitz felt rather confused, but it was hardly the first time one of the tenants got a little paranoid. Hazard of the job, he supposed. At least _his_ paranoia was unfounded; it seemed May was still in the dark about his recent activities with Jemma. Rather surprising since earlier that morning, the first time he’d managed to see her since _then_ , they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other or their grins off their faces. 

“No, May. Nothing like that. This place has excellent security, you know that. And certainly one of you would have noticed anything out of the ordinary.”

May exhaled, glancing around the hall. “You’re right, of course. Just – let me know if you do see anything. Anything at all. And…watch your back.”

Fitz tilted his head. “May, what is it? Why are you – ?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing,” May responded quickly. Too quickly. And then she smirked. “And Fitz? I’m happy for you two, but next time, take it into her bedroom. Or better yet, yours. People eat at that table.”

Fitz struggled unsuccessfully for a response as May walked away.

**

Still half-asleep, Jemma moaned softly as she rolled closer to the center of the bed, her hand reaching out and seeking contact. She pouted and woke up fully when she felt nothing. She sat up, holding the sheet to her chest, and looked around for Fitz. He was sitting at his desk, his hair tousled, wearing nothing but his boxers and the same ratty t-shirt he was wearing when she showed up at his front door with the flimsiest of maintenance requests and he pulled her inside immediately. Jemma watched him for a moment as he furiously scribbled something in his notebook, his head bending closer and closer to the surface of his desk as he wrote. Then she smiled, pushed the sheet away, and crawled towards the foot of the bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, feeling the need to whisper in the quiet of the late night. 

He glanced at her, not even acknowledging her nudity, then focused on his notepad again. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Just had an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, search and rescue ‘bots that can find anything. Like really good dogs or something.”

Jemma couldn’t stop her smile. “You’re really attractive like this. All the time really, but especially like this.”

At that, Fitz seemed to return to Earth. He turned to her, lowering his pencil and fixing her with a somewhat embarrassed but mostly heated look. Jemma bit her lip, shifting on her hands and knees just enough to bunch up her breasts. Fitz zoomed in on them, and inhaled deeply. 

“Do you have enough of the idea written down?” Jemma asked, a bit breathless. “Can the rest wait until morning?”

Barely a moment passed before Fitz dropped his pencil and launched himself out of the chair at her. Jemma laughed, twisting around as she caught him and _oomphing_ as his tackle brought them both to the mattress. Jemma didn’t let him have the upper hand for long, rolling them both until she was straddled across his lap and he was looking up at her with complete adoration or something that might have been more than that if she was willing to admit such a strong feeling could exist after so short a time. She could hardly believe they had only done this twice and she could hardly wait to make it three times. Fitz dug his fingers into her thighs, lifting his hips up and groaning while she went hunting for the hem of his t-shirt.

Before she had a chance to pull it up and off him, there was a sudden _pop_ and all the ambient light and sound – the lamp on his desk, the glow of his alarm clock, the hum of the air conditioning – blinked out, leaving only the faint streetlight sneaking in between the window blinds. Jemma stopped moving, confused and annoyed by the interruption.

“Damn it,” Fitz growled. 

At that, Jemma shook her head, starting to rock her hips again desperately. “It can wait,” she said. “Probably just a fuse or something.”

Fitz reached a hand up, burying it in her hair as he stared at her longingly. “I should – God, Jemma, just – _yes_ – there’ll…there’ll be calls soon. The security systems are out too, y’know. Any agents at home are already preparing for some kind of an attack.”

Jemma froze, a sudden bolt of terror going through her. “You don’t think…?” She gripped at his shoulders.

Fitz sat up, pulling her closer, and Jemma hugged him tightly. “Of course not. There’s nothing to worry about,” he murmured in her ear. “But I should go check it out anyway.”

He carefully turned them both just enough to slide out from under her. Jemma hesitated for all of a moment, watching as he walked across the room to where she had thrown his trousers several hours ago. And then she moved quickly, hopping off the bed and searching for her own discarded clothing.

“I’ll come with you,” she announced. 

He gave her a fond if indulgent smile but didn’t argue, and soon enough they were making their way down the strangely dark, even for so late at night, hallway. They entered the stairwell and Fitz finally twisted on the torch he had brought with them. Its faint light bounced around the walls as he led her quickly down the stairs. Jemma felt rather foolish for worrying but reached out and took his hand anyway. He gave it a small squeeze but said nothing.

The basement was colder than she’d expected and she shivered as they entered it. He dropped her hand and made his way to the fuse box, while she looked around and rubbed her hands briskly over her upper arms, regretting throwing on only her camisole and shorts.

That’s when she realized a breeze was coming through a broken window near the ceiling. She froze, her whole body going on high alert. 

“Fitz.”

“Hmm?” he mumbled around the torch now in his mouth, clearly distracted by attempting to fix the power. 

“ _Fitz_.”

“Hello, Fitz.”

Jemma whirled at the unexpected voice. She heard Fitz gasp, the light dying out as the torch struck the ground and broke apart moments later.

“Jemma,” Fitz said, clearly trying to remain calm. “Run.”

She couldn’t respond for a long beat, not until she felt Fitz pushing at her lower back. 

“Run!” he repeated, and then she was darting forward, reaching out for where she knew the door to the stairwell should be. 

She fumbled slightly before finding the handle. Pulling it open, she raced up the stairs blindly, miraculously without tripping. She could hear Fitz right behind her, his breath ragged, his footfalls heavy. And then only slightly farther behind, the sound of the other man entering the stairwell.

“Fitz, I just want to talk!” he called out. “I need you to understand.”

Jemma barely even acknowledged that, bursting through the door and into the lobby. She slowed only slightly, turning to confirm Fitz was still with her. He reached out to her elbow, pointing his other hand at the front door, and they both began to run again. They had almost reached it when they heard the door to the stairs open again – and then, unexpectedly, a thwack and a loud grunt. 

Jemma nearly stumbled as she spun. Squinting in confusion, she could barely make out the strange man bent over and wheezing and – and Agent Sousa from the fourth floor emerging from the darkness on the far side, his cane in his hands. 

“Learned that one from Peggy Car – ” He was unable to finish his sentence as the man – it had to be Ward, had to be – straightened, then pushed Sousa to the ground.

“Oh!” Jemma exclaimed, forgetting about their own danger as she rushed to help her elderly neighbor. She crouched by him, then turned to glare up at the man. “Honestly! An old man!”

“This doesn’t concern you,” he growled. “I’m here to see Fitz.”

At that very moment, Fitz forced himself between them. “Well, I don’t want to see you, Ward,” he argued, his voice only slightly trembling. “You need to – ”

Fitz was interrupted by a rather frightening yell and the sudden crash of May, running at full-speed, into Ward. Fitz backed away quickly as May and Ward began to exchange blows. And then he dropped down next to Jemma, wordlessly asking after her before checking on Sousa as well. Sousa waved them both off, and then all three watched in awe as May beat on Ward, apparently taking a great deal of pleasure from hitting him until she finally ended the fight with one well-placed kick.

Jemma turned to Fitz, seeking some kind of explanation. She knew May had been in the field but she didn’t know she was so – amazing. But it was Sousa who cleared up the matter. 

“Never anger the Cavalry,” he observed.

“I told you never to call me that,” May reprimanded.

**

Jemma sat on the bottom stair leading up to the second floor. She hugged her arms around her waist, but didn’t truly begin to feel warm until Fitz sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her. She snuggled closer, watching as a S.H.I.E.L.D. medic struggled to examine a protesting Sousa, Garrett led a cuffed Ward away and May spoke in the corner with Coulson. It had been an adrenaline-fueled hour or so, and she could feel herself crashing. She was looking forward to collapsing in bed – preferably with Fitz beside her.

Coulson broke away then, walking closer to the two of them. Jemma sat up straighter, and next to her, she sensed Fitz do the same. She was about to stand when Coulson gestured for them to remain where they were.

“Good job tonight,” he said. “Garrett’s promised to take care of Ward. You two should just get some rest.” 

He nodded at them both and seemed as if he was about to leave. And then he cleared his throat. “And if you’ve ever considered going into the field, my team runs into a lot of cases that push the boundaries of science.” Walking away, he added, “We could also use a pilot.”

Jemma couldn’t find the words to respond to that or to May in the corner, rolling her eyes. The idea was certainly intriguing and she glanced at Fitz in excitement. 

He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

**

“Are you sure, Jemma?”

May watched intently as Jemma nodded, looking for any signs of hesitation and inwardly sighing when she saw none.

“Yes. As much as I enjoy my work here and the friends I’ve made,” Jemma responded, giving May a small yet significant smile, “I’ve always wanted to see the world. This will be such a wonderful opportunity to do so and to help people. I just – I hope he agrees.”

“Coulson wouldn’t have offered the job if he didn’t want you,” May replied, feigning ignorance.

Jemma didn’t buy it, tilting her head in slight condescension. May sighed.

“I hope he will too.”

“Will you come with me for backup?”

May raised her eyebrows, somewhat surprised by the request. “I think you have far more powerful means of persuasion than I do, at least with him.”

“Still,” Jemma responded with a shrug. “You’ve known him longer. I think he’ll trust your opinion on this one.”

After a moment’s hesitation, May nodded, then followed Jemma out of the apartment and up the stairs to Fitz’s. Fitz seemed surprised and a little wary to see them both, but he covered it up quickly with a smile for May and a chaste kiss for Jemma. Then he stepped back to let them in.

Jemma stopped in the middle of the room, wringing her hands as she turned to face him. May remained close to the door, feeling awkward. And preparing herself to stop Fitz from trying to escape from any discomfort or misunderstanding.

“I’ve decided to accept Coulson’s offer,” Jemma blurted.

Fitz stepped back as if he’d been physically hit, dropping his gaze and staring at his shoes. 

“I understand,” he said quickly, clearly trying to mask his emotion. “It’s a good opp – oppor – step for you. And, um, it’s not like you and I – ”

“Fitz,” Jemma interrupted. “I’ve already spoken with Coulson, and told him a biochemist wasn’t enough. They’d need someone with strong engineering and technical skills. Someone I already knew I could work well with. I said – I said I wouldn’t do it without you.”

His head swung up, and May could only imagine the expression on his face as he stared at Jemma, speechless. 

“Coulson agreed,” Jemma nearly whispered. “What – what do you think?”

“I – but I – I’m not even a real agent.”

“Technicalities,” Jemma argued with a dismissive wave. 

“What if we – that is, we haven’t – we could – ”

“We could,” Jemma agreed, nodding in acceptance. “But I’m willing to take that chance. No matter what, I think we’ll be good friends, good partners. I’m hopeful we’ll be more than that.”

Fitz turned to May then, his expression uncertain and almost distraught. She nodded once, trying to show him wordlessly how much faith she had in him. Fitz swallowed, then turned to Jemma again.

“OK,” he said softly. And then stronger: “OK.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Jemma rushed to him then, pulling him into a hug, then kissing him almost immediately. May began to feel increasingly uncomfortable as the kiss deepened. When Fitz seemed to fully recover and tugged Jemma closer, one hand dropping dangerously near her butt, May cleared her throat. They bounced apart, looking almost as if they’d forgotten she was there.

“I guess that means I’ll have to brush up my piloting skills.”

Jemma glanced up at Fitz, then back at May in growing excitement. “Do you mean – oh, May, really?”

May shrugged. “Someone’s gotta look out for you kids. I put far too much effort into getting you together to let you get yourselves killed now.”

Jemma’s excitement immediately turned to confusion, and May pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh. As soon as she had control of herself, she added, “Do you think all those things just magically broke on their own?”

“That was _you_?” Fitz exclaimed with a bit of a screech.

Jemma turned to him then, laughing as she swatted at his chest. “I _told_ you I didn’t do anything.”

May simply smirked once more, pushing off the door frame and leaving them alone. As she walked down the hall, she could hear their bickering turn more and more flirtatious and then suddenly die out. May sighed, preparing herself for a future of keeping those lovesick fools alive. But in a way, they had brought her back to life, so it was only fair. She didn’t know if she was ready for this next stage, but she knew there was no one else she’d rather face it with.


End file.
